Short stories of the sneak and the mirror
Answers
I know you’ve done it, don’t worry I have too. Windows, shiny screens, sometimes even polished silverware allow you to catch a good glimpse of yourself. Is my hair alright, makeup good, anything in my nose or, God forbid, teeth? Without anyone noticing I fix a loose strand of hair and return to what I was doing, a sense of reassurement fills my heart knowing that my face hasn’t suddenly morphed into something unrecognisable since the time I last checked. Wait but that’s just a little taste.
Now for the main course, mirrors. Smooth, shiny, glistening, reflecting the glorious image of nothing more important than me - my face, hair, body, clothes, shoes. It meticulously captures each and every single detail. The full size mirror nailed into the Haines hall allows me to scrutinize my clothes and my entire body. The extra wide full mirror slanting outside the bathroom allows me to catch a side view as you walk into the bathroom. The built in mirror above the sink elongates itself for a upper body view. The small desk mirror allows me to focus on nothing but my face, if I’m feeling really adventurous, flip it and I’m lost in a world where each eyelash looks like a tree branch, each pore could be the grand canyon, the little peach fuzz on my face could be a carpet, my teeth… let's stop there.
My eyes are accustomed to seek out those imperfections. As I gaze at my reflection and my eyes are drawn to the blemishes, the flaws, everything that I deem as not beautiful. I stare with my heart’s content, the imperfection burning into my mind with each passing moment. Disappointment, anger, and sometimes even disgust fill my mind as I walk away. That little red spot on my face, with each passing moment it grows bigger, darker and more ominous in my mind. It’s probably covering half my cheek I stop at the bathroom on my way to class. It’s no bigger than a freckle. The shirt that was a little tight, I must look bad, I wrap my sweater a little tighter. My straight black hair, black eyes, and Asian features must have no place in this white town. I walk a little faster.
We all know the story of Narcissus the Greek mythological character who looked into water and fell in love with his own reflection. Unable to leave the beauty of his reflection, Narcissus lost the will to live and stared at himself until he died. He must a been a really really good looking man. My story however, goes a little more like this: I looked into mirrors and saw aspects of myself that I didn’t like, the girl looking back at me pointed out my imperfections, and more and more the imperfections became all I saw, eventually each time I looked into the mirror, I saw the framed picture of my imperfections daunting me. I looked for the straight noses, blue eyes, and blond hair, but saw nothing but the opposite. I looked for the beauty that was acclaimed around me and couldn’t find it, unable to release these imperfections, I eventually got lost.